"Agreed," Michael said. "I'll see what I can roust up from my sources that might whet his appetite a bit." He had his mind made up that it would have to be new to the market, and either obscure, or with a provenance that was well known enough to create a hunger from the outset.
Not that the box didn't have enough provenance of its own. That wasn't the point. Michael wanted an ample supply of breadcrumbs to drop to lure this foul buggar away from Millie. And more--enough to set a trap if they had to. Insurance. If they didn't need it, he could just as easily get rid of it all again.
"Can you keep yourself safe for that long, do you think?" he asked her. He well knew that Millie could fend for herself. "Can you keep yourself hidden awhile longer if you need to?"
He reached in his pocket and slid an American dime across the table to her. Sizewise, it was the smallest and thinnest of the American coins. It had made a decent portkey.
"Just in case," he told her. It would take her to an old but quiet middle class neighborhood in London, to a safehouse--one Michael didn't use very much. It was an old attic apartment with skylights that, although Michael had once loved it a lot and used it frequently, he hadn't needed it over the last several years. He kept it up, though, just in case. Well, Michael always had a contingency plan for just about everything. Old habits died hard.
by 
